


Pop Tarts

by st_aurafina



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Breakfast, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:24:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_aurafina/pseuds/st_aurafina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the twenty first century is a little overwhelming for Helena, but she knows she's in the right place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pop Tarts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Retsuko in the 2011 fandom_stocking

Helena has no difficulty mastering the technology in the kitchen at Leena's. She's enough of an engineer to comprehend the way the microwave works, and she finds the electric toaster a charming concept. The real point of dissonance is the food. She has eaten breakfast since she was unbronzed, but it was mostly hotel or diner fare. The actual preparation of food in a modern home is relatively new.

Artie favours a continental breakfast of sweet rolls and coffee: familiar to Helena, though not her choice this morning. He snatches up rolls from a plate Leena has left, gives Helena a narrow-eye gaze of warning, and vanishes back to the Warehouse.

Claudia is eating square pastries iced in purple with lurid green streaks. Helena puts a saucepan of water on to boil, and reads the side of the pastry box . "My God, it sounds like the inventory for a chemistry set."

Claudia grins through a mouthful of the noxious looking material. "They're joylicious."

"Please tell me that's not a real word in this century." Helena looks for the salt, and just to be sure, tastes it. Ah, sodium chloride. Never change. She salts the water and drops in the eggs.

"Ooh, eggs!" Pete juggles a handful to the blender, cracks them in two at time until there are six yolks floating in the beaker, then throws in something that looks like grass clippings and hits the switch. He takes the beaker off the blender and drinks from it with relish. "Breakfast of champions, my friends."

Claudia makes retching noises, and though it is a horrible indelicate thing to do at the breakfast table, Helena has to agree. Sometimes she wonders if she's not meant to be here, in a world where breakfast can be a list of chemicals and a handful of greenery tugged out of the lawn.

Then she catches sight of Myka, dreamily spooning sugar into her coffee, and she decides that she's in exactly the right place.


End file.
